


Day 6: Spanking

by ImagineBeatles



Series: Magical Mystery Smut Month [7]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Basically, Blindfolds, Caning, Coming Untouched, Dom John, Dom Paul, Established Relationship, Kink Exploration, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Magical Mystery Smut Month, Restraints, Spanking, Sub John, Sub Paul, mainly dom Paul and sub John, they switch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25116400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineBeatles/pseuds/ImagineBeatles
Summary: "Today it was finally happening. John hadn’t quite felt this nervous about anything for a long time, but Paul assured him it would be fine. They had talked about it plenty of times in advance, making sure they agreed on what they would be doing and how intense John’s first caning would be. But lying there, tied to the table — at John’s request, so he couldn’t move away or hit Paul by accident — John felt the nerves getting to him."
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Series: Magical Mystery Smut Month [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811731
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58





	Day 6: Spanking

**Author's Note:**

> And here's today's prompt! I'm very happy with how this turned out, which is surprising considering I wrote two fics today! Happy McLennon Day and enjoy <3

1966   
Paul had John tied to the kitchen table, bent over and naked with his chest pressing into the dark wood, his arms strapped to the table legs with red rope. He was hard and exposed, cock pressing into the table, while his heart hammered in his chest in anticipation. Paul was standing behind him, out of view, but with an undeniable presence that made John acutely aware he was being watched. 

He could hear the dull sound of something hitting Paul’s palm and with each soft slap John’s throat grew more dry and his body more tense.

They had decided to do this about a month ago now. They’d had a day off from recording and had spent their day songwriting at John’s house, up in the little attic room John referred to as “daddy’s room” when speaking to Julian — a name Paul had started using too with a much naughtier connotation. They had worked on a few songs, but soon had grown weary, and when Cynthia had called up to let them know she and Julian would be out in the garden for a while, they had taken their chance. 

John had watched with interest as he had hit his lover repeatedly with the thin rattan cane, watching as Paul’s body shook and trembled with each short stroke, gasping and crying out against the little ballgag John had pushed between his lips to keep him quiet. He had looked beautiful, draped over John’s desk, fingers grasping at the thin wood, forcing himself to keep his legs spread as John had ordered him to. 

It was something they liked to do when the moment struck, a kink of Paul’s that had stuck around from getting canings at school. John had first found out about it in Hamburg, before he and Paul had even gotten together. John had walked in on Paul getting a harsh caning from a blond German prostitute with big tits and although he had seen many debauched things during their time there, that particular scene had taken him by surprise. It had led to a lot of awkwardness, intensified by the unresolved sexual tension between them, and had only been properly resolved in Paris some two years later, when John had taken Paul there for his 21st birthday and had made his first move. It wasn’t some months later still that John had offered to indulge Paul in that particular kink. 

Paul had taught him how to cane properly. He had explained to John what he liked and how. He had shown John where to hit, what areas to avoid, what the benefits were of the different sized canes, how to properly prepare him, and, most importantly, had instructed him on the proper technique. John had felt silly at first, hitting a powdered pillow with a small rattan cane while Paul watched and instructed him. The first time it had been Paul’s bare butt instead of a fluffy pillow, John had been nervous, but his lover had guided him through it and now, almost five years later, John felt confident and liked getting creative, pushing his partner’s limits in ways only he could. 

Although Paul had asked John if he was interested in getting caned too when they first started out, John had always declined the offer, not thinking himself to be “the type” for it, as he put it. Paul had shrugged and accepted it, and John had thought that to be the end of it. But that afternoon in the attic, one month ago... that had changed. 

Even before that, he had been curious. He couldn’t see how he  _ would not _ be, seeing the way his best friend, songwriting partner and lover reacted to the painful hits. But that afternoon had been the final push, as he had watched Paul cry out and spasm with each hit, letting out strangled noises and pretty whines as John had stroked and squeezed his reddened arse, letting his fingers scratch over the hypersensitive skin to pull delicious whimpers from his lover’s throat. 

Even better had been when John had sat down in his chair, and pulled Paul into his lap, making him ride his cock as John sat back and watched. Paul had appeared as if in a trance, moving up and down slowly as his legs and arms trembled with the effort of trying to keep himself up. Tears had streamed down his face, and just when John had wanted to ask if it was too much, take him into his arms and hold him, Paul had come with a content grumble. 

Once Paul had come down from his high and was sitting curled up and content on a whole bunch of pillows — more than he probably needed — drinking tea, John had nervously mentioned his curiosity. Although Paul had frowned briefly at first, he hadn’t been surprised at John’s interest and had been more than willing to switch up the roles. Since that day, they had spent weeks preparing. 

And today it was finally happening. John hadn’t quite felt this nervous about anything for a long time, but Paul assured him it would be fine. They had talked about it plenty of times in advance, making sure they agreed on what they would be doing and how intense John’s first caning would be. But lying there, tied to the table — at John’s request, so he couldn’t move away or hit Paul by accident — John felt the nerves getting to him. 

“I’ll go easy on you,” Paul said and John let out a nervous chuckle in response, nodding his consent. Then, Paul was in front of him, a long thin cane in his left hand, and John looked up at him with wide eyes. 

Paul knelt before him. He was still completely dressed, in stark contrast to John’s nakedness, and his baby blue sweater looked too soft and innocent for what he was about to do to John. 

“You’re still okay?” Paul asked and John nodded. 

“Hit me with it,” he said jokingly, and Paul smiled, before lifting a red blindfold over John’s eyes. Even though John already hadn’t been able to see much, Paul wanted each hit to catch him off guard, assuring him it would add to the pleasure. He secured it behind John’s head with surprising gentleness and pressed a kiss to his lips, before pulling away to stand back up.

Paul’s footsteps retreated, and then it was quiet, the only sound John was able to hear being that of his own breathing. Anticipation built inside of him, and when he felt the end of the rattan cane press against his skin, he jerked. The next thing he felt was Paul’s hand, grabbing the lobe of his arse and squeezing. 

“When it gets too much, tell me,” he said and John once more nodded. When he pressed back into the touch, Paul slapped him with the palm of his hand. 

“And no moving,” he warned, his voice firm, and John grumbled in response. When Paul slapped him again, he let out a moan of surprise, feeling the first tingles travel through his buttocks. Yet he managed to keep still, and as a reward Paul bent down to place a kiss to the small of John’s back. 

Paul slapped him again, the sound of his hand colliding with John’s arse sounding through the kitchen. The hits were more than doable. Paul did go easy on him, starting out lightly, and John felt himself relax when Paul hit him again, enjoying the pleasant sting. He was used to this. Even before they had discussed this, Paul had given his arse a couple of quick slaps with his hand while fucking him, enjoying the way John clenched around him when he did. And since he had agreed to cane John, he had insisted on doing it more often, so now, John was used to the hits. He trusted his boyfriend to know his limits and he knew he enjoyed  _ this  _ part at least. When Paul gave his cheek a few slaps in rapid succession, John began to feel the pain, and moaned. 

“You look pretty like this,” Paul mused and paused for a moment to massage the supple flesh, making John groan in response to the feeling. “I think I’m starting to understand why you like doing this to me.” 

There was an amused chuckle in his voice and before John had had the opportunity to respond, Paul had hit him again, harder this time, and John let out a whelp in surprise. Behind him he could hear Paul chuckle, but John chose to pretend not to have heard it. 

Paul hit him a few times more, alternating between soft and hard slaps, but keeping them mostly low-impact, warming John up for the real thing, and giving him enough time to recover, massaging the flesh to make sure he was comfortable. Still, the tingles grew more stinging and although the pain quickly faded, some of the harder slaps made John moan at the pleasant mixture of pleasure, pain and excitement. 

When Paul finally pulled away, leaving one last little pat behind on both cheeks, John whined, wanting more. He wished he could see what Paul was doing, but with his vision blocked and his hands tied, that was impossible. Pricking up his ears, John focussed on the sound of Paul’s footsteps on the kitchen tiles, and he could hear something clattering as Paul picked something up. His heart jumped, and when Paul pressed the light wood against the sensitive skin of his arse, he let out a weak moan. 

“Still fine?” Paul asked and John nodded.

“Y-yes,” he said, once he remembered what Paul had said about using actual words, and took in a deep shuddering breath to gather himself, as Paul ran the cane up and down his skin. When the feeling vanished, John could not help but hold his breath in anticipation. 

_ Whack. _

With a light crack, the cane landed on John’s arse. Although Paul had described the feeling of it beforehand, John only fully understood what he meant by saying it was like being hit twice. Although the actual blow had been relatively light, John still felt it, a simple sting first, much like Paul’s hand... before a few seconds later, as the nerves began to decompress, a twinge of pain began to rise as if from  _ inside  _ John’s arse. It was more painful than the initial hit, and John groaned as he pressed his forehead against the wood of the table. 

Once the pain had subsided, he nodded. 

“More.” 

_ Whack. _

John gasped as he was hit again in the same spot, harder this time than the last one, and groaned as the second twinge of pain moved through him. Retreating the cane, Paul did it again, twice in succession this time, and John’s body twitched at the feeling. He moaned as Paul reached out with his hand to massage the skin again. 

“You’re doing well, John,” he said, voice soft and sweet and John felt a warmth spread through his chest. He bit down his lip at the feeling of Paul’s fine hands easing the sting. It didn’t yet hurt as such, but John could feel it and it was far from comfortable. 

Removing his hand, Paul pressed a kiss to the hit skin, before hitting him again, lower this time, hitting new skin, but harder, and John’s body jerked. Instead of pulling away, Paul this time let the wood of the cane rub against John as the second wave went through. The feeling was oddly good and John let out a moan. 

“Like that?” Paul asked, more teasing now and when John nodded, he hit him again, letting John feel both flashes of pain, before doing it again, and again, and again, barely giving John time to breathe. The tingles and twinges worsened at the repeated impact and began to border on actually painful now, and when Paul hit him one last time, right over both cheeks, John cried out, his body jerking against the table. 

“Fuck!” he moaned, and groaning from low in his throat as Paul massaged his cheeks again. The skin burned, overheated and sensitive and when Paul slapped his arse with his hand, he yelped. 

“Easy, love. We’ve only just started,” Paul said, and John groaned, surprised with himself that he actually wanted Paul to continue. 

Pulling his hands back, Paul continued the caning, hitting John’s bottom with a variety of long and short strokes, patting the cheeks lightly and rapidly before landing a harder hit that slowly caused John’s body to shake. Each blow came as a surprise, and just as John had thought he had figured out some kind of pattern, Paul would hit him somewhere else entirely, causing him to jump and cry out. He could feel the waves of pain grow more intense, spreading through him in a pleasant buzz.

At first his body still fought the pain, working against it rather than with it, but with each hit, John felt himself give in more and more — until finally, with one sharp blow where his thighs met his arse, there was a shiver travel up his spine, and he  _ surrendered. _

John wasn’t sure how long Paul worked him, occasionally giving him a moment to collect himself as he rubbed at the raw, tender skin with his hands, causing John to shudder and tremble, arms pulling at the ropes that were still keeping them in place. Paul praised him throughout it, telling him how beautiful he looked and how well he took it all, while letting the cane collide with his skin. The words spread through John’s body to mix with the pain, soothing him each time a white hot line of pain shot through him. 

When Paul finally dropped the cane, John was crying, although he could not quite recall when that had happened. He whimpered as Paul began to rub at his skin again, softly and sweet, and pulses of warm pleasure pulsed through John like waves. 

“You did so well, baby,” Paul muttered, kneeling behind John to kiss at the painful skin of John’s arse and upper thighs, teeth nipping occasionally, careful not to accidentally break the tender skin. When Paul’s hands travelled between his fingers to feel for his cock, John realised he was still hard. But not only that, he was dripping and he gasped as Paul’s cold fingers found the base. 

_ “Please…” _ he muttered, voice weak and cracking. He pushed back against Paul now that the caning was over, needing more, and Paul gently shushed him, pressing his stubbled cheek against John’s ass. John jerked at the feeling, painful yet good, and another drop of precum flowed from his cock. 

“There’s a good boy,” Paul moaned kissing the heated skin, while his fingers danced over the base of John’s cock, making him tremble and jerk, trying to both get more and less of Paul’s touch at the same time. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Paul continued and John whined. 

“Please,” he repeated, “Please…  _ Paul…” _

John did not hear Paul picking up the cane, focussing only on the feeling of Paul’s fingers around his cock, and his stubble rubbing painfully over his arse. He did not hear the cane, and when Paul lightly tapped it against him, John choked on his pleas. His hips buckled as he tried to press back into the oddly pleasurable stings, needing more. When the cane briefly vanished again, he had been about to make a sound of complaint, when one final blow landed low on his backside, sending deep vibrations straight through his hole to his prostate and cock, making John spasm as he came. 

“Oh  _ fuck, _ Paul!” he groaned out, fucking his hips down into the table, spilling his seed on to the table, his hands pulling at the restraints. 

Once he came down from the high of his orgasm, his body fell slack against the table and Paul quickly shuffled to the front to untie him. He grabbed two of the large pillows they had gathered in preparation and positioned them by the table, guiding John to lie there on his side in a half-sitting position that would put the least pressure on his bum, and sat down on the floor next to him. 

John felt too exhausted to move, his whole body buzzing in over-exhaustion and when Paul pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, he couldn’t even bring himself to complain about how soft and daft that little gesture was. 

“You alright?” Paul asked for the umpteenth time that afternoon as he sat down opposite John, his back leaning against the leg of the table. He was hard, but ignored his crotch, simply letting his hands rest on his knees instead. John smiled, lopsided in his post-coital bliss. 

“Not too intense?” Paul asked, and John shook his head, wishing he could speak, but his vocal chords did not want to yet. 

Once a few moments had passed, and John felt his body come down from the odd strung up high Paul had put him on, he tried to smile. 

“I ruined your table,” he said and Paul laughed as he glanced up at the kitchen table. 

“Seems like you enjoyed it then.”

“Clearly.”

“Next time it’s my turn again, though,” Paul said and John let out a chuckle at the warning tone to Paul’s voice. 

“I promise,” he said and Paul moved onto his knees and shuffled over to John, crawling over his legs to give him another sweet and tender kiss. “Now, let’s draw you a bath. It will help with the soreness.”

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Chut, and I hope you guys liked this one.   
> Tomorrow's prompt will be "virginity kink", featuring more bottom John. The boy is certainly getting a lot of attention these days ;)


End file.
